


Tumblr Kink List prompts

by SnubbingApollo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Adoribull - Freeform, Angst, Armor Kink, Bad Parenting, Collars, Dirty Talk, Human Furniture, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Mirror Sex, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnubbingApollo/pseuds/SnubbingApollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently did a prompt request based on a list of kinks/tropes. These are the results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Krem/Dorian, 101: 101: Crying, sobbing (erotic and non-erotic)

Dorian gets the letter while Krem is training with Bull. He thanks the Maker for small favors. He doesn’t want his lover to see him like this. He knew this was coming. He knew when he refused to come home, when he refused to even hear his father’s ‘apology’. He knew.

So he’s not sure why it hurts so much. 

He fully intends to have himself and the room cleaned up by the time Krem gets back. As it stands now, the table is still overturned, papers and odds and ends that were resting on it scattered about the floor, including an ink well that had shattered sending a pool of black spreading across the floor that will, in reality, probably never scrub off the stone. Dorian is sitting leaning against the wall, his head hidden in his arms and the letter crumbled in his fist. One leg is bent, arms resting on his knee so that he can hide his face, the other stretched out. Some time ago something cold and wet hit the bottom of his outstretched foot, the spreading puddle of ink probably. He hasn’t bothered to look.

For a long moment he thought he would cry. It would make sense, but the tears don’t come no matter how hard he tries. He feels like his heart’s been carved out with a rusted spoon so why can’t he cry?

The door opens and Dorian realizes he must have lost track of time. Krem walks into the room and stops dead as he takes in the scene. Dorian raises his eyes to glance at him before turning his face back into his knee. Why can’t he cry?

“What happened?” Krem asks as he kneels in front of him. Dorian says nothing simply hands him the letter. There’s silence for a moment as Krem reads it.

“He didn’t even bother to write it himself,” Dorian mutters. His voice sounds bleak and toneless to his own ears. “That’s from the family lawyer.” Dorian chuckles humorlessly. “I suppose I’ll have to change how I introduce myself. Dorian of House Pavus would be a lie now.”

Krem’s arms are around him then, sudden and warm, clutching him close. Dorian leans into the embrace.

“I don’t have a _name_ , Cremisius,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

“You can have mine,” Krem says. His voice is strained as though he’s speaking through gritted teeth. “Might not win you as many favors but-”

“It’s perfect,” Dorian cuts him off. “Dorian Aclassi. Yes, I like it.”

Krem clutches him closer, resting his cheek on Dorian’s hair.

“It’s yours,” he whispers. “For as long as you want it.”

Dorian lifts a hand and fists it in Krem’s shirt turning his face into his lover’s chest. He feels something wet slide down the side his face. Ah, there are the tears.

No sooner has he thought it then he’s suddenly sobbing. It hits him all at once, as though he was waiting all along for Krem to hold him and just didn’t realize it. His crying borders on hysterical, great heaving sobs wracking him and shaking his body in Krem’s arms.

The warrior holds him through it all, whispering to him soothingly and rocking him back and forth.

“I’m so sorry, Dorian,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Dorian clings to the man he loves as hard as he can. He’s so glad Krem doesn’t try to say it’s alright. It’s not. He’s lost his family and nothing is alright. It feels like a part of him is dying, what was left of the child he’d been who’d loved his father more than anything and would have done anything to please him, to make him proud. That part of him is gone now, destroyed under the knowledge of what his father had tried to force him to give up.

Nothing could be worth not being here right now, held and safe in Krem’s arms.

Eventually, his crying slows and then stops. Krem keeps whispering to him, though, in Tevene now, a soothing babble of comforting words mixed in with endearments.

“I love you,” he murmurs into Krem’s neck.

“I love you too, Dorian,” Krem answers holding him tighter.

The letter Dorian sends to Magister Pavus in return is simple and short. Josephine helps him draft it and it’s all very official. A simple acknowledgement of the Magister’s legal decision and a return of the sigil of his house, Dorian nearly sinks back into hysterics as he thinks of all the trouble he and the inquisitor went through to get it back, just to lose it again this way. Krem is standing next to him the whole time, silent, but solid and comforting.

When it comes time to sign it Dorian doesn’t hesitate at all. Krem leans down and kisses the top of his head, before handing the letter to Josie, thanking her, and leading him out of the room.

 

With all Sincerity,

Dorian Aclassi


	2. 3. Accidental stimulation (proximity and friction; involuntary arousal; situations of adrenaline and reflexes)

Dorian sighs. He’s not fond of riding for long distances at all but this is ridiculous.

They’d been caught in a storm the night before and in the confusion as they’d tried to secure the tents against the wind one of the horses had run off. Krem’s horse specifically leaving the warrior without a mount. There had been some arguing over who was going to have to double up before Bull had smirked and turned to Dorian.

“The ‘Vints can share,” he’d said ignoring the mage’s protests. The decision had been followed by a smattering of laughter from the other Chargers.

“Twelve silver says one of them is dead before we make camp,” Dalish says.

“That’s a fool’s bet,” Rocky answers. “Real question is which one will it be?”

Dorian rolls his eyes. It’s true he and Krem haven’t always gotten along but they’ve been doing better. They’ve started talking as opposed to hurling insults and when the other man calls him ‘Altus’ now it sounds more like teasing than scorn. That being said Dorian is fairly certain the last thing their tentative truce needs is a three day journey on the same horse.

Krem arches an eyebrow at him expectantly from where he’s standing next to Dorian’s destrier.

“Well?” he asks, motioning to the saddle. Dorian raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I am not riding in front,” he says firmly. Krem’s eyebrow does not falter.

“Oh?” he asks as though he thinks Dorian’s protests are cute.

“You’re the one who lost your horse!” Dorian yells with the indignation of one who knows the argument is already lost. Krem merely stands there arching that blighted eyebrow expectantly. Dorian makes a disgusted noise and throws his hands in the air before climbing up onto the saddle.

The laughing from the other Chargers picks up again, and Dorian glares at them.

Krem swings up behind him and Dorian swallows thickly as the other man presses up against his back and leans over him to take the reigns. In order to properly steer the horse Krem has to reach around Dorian, the position keeping him pressed to the mage’s back with his arms around him in a half embrace, their height difference meaning Krem is all but resting his chin on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian tenses and tries to lean forward but there’s just nowhere for him to go.

Oh dear.

It only gets worse once they start moving. Dorian holds himself as still and tense as possible but every step the horse takes still rocks them against each other pressing Krem’s chest to his back and rolling their hips together.

Krem is warm behind him and around him. His arms feel just as strong as Dorian knows they are, they’d have to be to swing his monstrosity of a weapon around the way he does. The man’s breath is hot against his skin and Dorian can feel his cock start to stir at the way Krem moves against him with the horse’s every stride. He tries to will it away, to think of anything else but every time he gains any ground Krem’s hips will press against his again or his arms will tighten to turn the horse and heat flashes through the mage again.

“Relax, Altus,” Krem mutters after a moment. “You’re gonna spook the horse.” He’s practically speaking directly into Dorian’s ear. The mage can feel his breath. He shifts a little but doesn’t relax at all hoping Krem will just let it go. No such luck.

“Seriously, Dorian, You’ll wreck your back if you stay like that. It’s alright, I promise I’ll only bite if you ask nicely.”

Oh sweet Maker, that was the opposite of helpful. Now all Dorian could imagine was the warrior turning his head and biting at his neck. He stifles a shudder by sheer force of will and squeezes his eyes shut. Krem is silent for a long moment before he sighs heavily and speaks again.

“Look if I’m making you this uncomfortable I can share with someone else.”

“It’s not that,” Dorian says quickly.

“Then what the fuck’s the matter? You’re acting like accidentally touching me is gonna set you on fire.”

Dorian just shakes his head. What is he supposed to say? Well, I know you still mostly hate me, but I find you unbearably attractive and the way you’re moving against me is making it impossible to think about anything but what it would be like if you were fucking me. Yes that could only go over well.

The horse’s gait becomes uneven for a moment as she climbs up a hill and Krem is pressed more forcefully against him and grunts softly at the unexpected jolt. Right into Dorian’s ear.

Dorian stifles a shiver just barely but can’t do anything about the small noise that escapes him as his cock twitches in his pants.

It’s Krem’s turn to go tense behind him and Dorian winces. Yes, perfect way to begin a tentative friendship, he thinks to himself. Well done. He’s all prepared for Krem stop the horse and demand to pair up with someone else, preferably someone with some actual self-control, when the other man relaxes against him and laughs a little, a warm breathy chuckle right next to his ear.

“That’s how it is, huh?” he asks turning his head so his lips brush against Dorian’s ear with every word. “Feeling a little overheated, Altus?”

Fuck. _Fuck._

“Krem,” he whispers back. He means to say more but after the man’s name leaves his mouth he trails off, at a loss. Krem smirks against him and leans closer pressing his body against Dorian’s, tightening his arms around the mage’s waist.

Dorian finally gives up attempting to hold himself still and away from the other man and lets himself relax leaning into the embrace. Krem hums in his ear and Dorian shivers again.

“You like this, huh? Pressed all close to me, nowhere to go?” Dorian nods a little, his breathing picking up slightly. On the horse’s next stride Krem exaggerates the movement of his hips, rocking against Dorian in a way which is unmistakably provocative. “I like it, too.”

Dorian lets out a small sound and Krem hums happily. He moves his hands to a more relaxed position on the reigns using it as a cover to rest his palm flat on Dorian’s stomach. 

“Mmm, wish I could really touch you. Bet you make amazing sounds.”

Dorian raises one of his own hands to grip Krem’s wrist.

“You- you sound…,” he trails off swallowing hard.

“Yeah? How do I sound?” Krem prompts.

“ _Amazing. Venhedis_ , Cremisius, your _voice_ ,” Dorian mutters fervently. Krem presses smirking lips against the shell of Dorian’s ear.

“You like my voice? Mmm, that I can do. I can whisper to you all day, Dorian. Tell you every filthy thing you wanna hear. They’ll have no idea.”

Dorian jolts at the reminder that they’re not alone. he glances to the side where the rest of the Chargers are riding alongside them. None of them are looking this way, absorbed in their own conversation, but they could. At any time they could look over and see Krem pressed to him like this, whispering to him. Maybe they wouldn’t know what it meant, but maybe they _would_.

His eyes wander along the group and he nearly swallows his tongue when he turns to the Bull and is met with amused gaze. Dorian stares at him frozen as the Qunari breathes a silent chuckle smirking at them. Dorian lets out a quiet sound embarrassingly close to squeak and Krem turns to see what he’s looking at. The warrior laughs when he sees Bull staring at them.

“Yeah that’s not surprising,” he tells Dorian. “He can probably smell us.”

Dorian gapes and Bull gives him that ridiculous one-eyed wink before looking forward again.

“Fasta vass,” Dorian mutters fervently. Krem laughs again, pressing his hand more firmly against Dorian’s stomach.

“You okay?” the warrior asks. Dorian nods after a moment, leaning back into him. “Mmm good. I was just getting to the fun part.” He slides his hand slowly down Dorian’s stomach, pushing the lines of plausible deniability but not quiet going past them, stopping just short of brushing his fingers against Dorian’s erection. Dorian can’t help but cant his hips up in response.

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you, bet you’d feel great in my hand. Are you hard, Dorian?”

Just like that Dorian’s lost again. He squeezes his eyes shut, nodding.

“Mmm, want to wrap my hand around you. I don’t know you well enough, Dorian. I don’t know what you like. I’d have to experiment a little. Start off nice and slow, maybe run my thumb over the head, just little circles, light and gentle.”

Dorian moans at the words, thrusting up into nothing but air and squeezing Krem’s wrist for dear life.

“I- I wouldn’t be able to take that for long,” Dorian whispers back, voice low and breathless. “I’d need more.”

“Yeah? What if I want to tease you?” Krem asks.

“You’re already doing that,” the mage points out.

“And I’ve already decided I like what it does to you.” Krem thrusts hard against Dorian’s ass on the next stride and Dorian squirms at the images the movement evokes. “You thinking about me fucking you?”

The noise that comes from Dorian at that question is nothing less than a whimper.

“ _Yes_ ,” he answers.

“I could, you know. I have something, back at Skyhold. It’s made of wood, nice and long. I’ve been told I’m pretty good with it.”

Dorian groans and clutches him.

“Krem, _please_ ,” he whispers harshly.

“Hey, Chief!” Krem yells to Bull, pulling their horse to a stop. Dorian straightens so quickly he’d have tumbled from the horse altogether if Krem’s arms hadn’t been bracketing him. He struggles to appear unaffected as the company’s attention turns to them. “I’ve gotta piss. You guys go on ahead. Dorian and I’ll catch up.”

“Sure thing, Krem Puff,” Bull calls back not bothering to mask the amusement in his voice. “Don’t be too long.”

Once they’ve disappeared over the crest of the next hill Krem turns his attention back to Dorian.

“Get off this horse, and into those woods,” Krem says into his ear. 

Dorian doesn’t need to be told twice.


	3. Adoribull: Collars and bonus mirror!sex

Dorian groans breathlessly as the Bull moves inside him. He digs his fingers into the Qunari’s shoulders and presses his head back into the pillows baring his throat for the other man’s sucking kisses.

“Harder,” he grits out and then keens when the Bull’s next thrust rocks him slightly up the bed. “Yes,” he cries out, before bringing his hand up to clutch at one of the Bull’s horns. “Good, that’s…. but I meant your mouth. _Nngh_ , want you to mark me.”

The Bull grunts into the skin of his neck.

“Fuck, Dorian. You sure?”

The mage understands his concern. Dorian’s only recently begun to reluctantly embrace public displays of affection but everyone knows about them already and he wants this.

“Yes, ah, I want everyone to see. Want them to know.”

Bull growls against his skin before biting down hard on the juncture of Dorian’s neck and shoulder, right where his clothes leave him bare. Dorian cries out and arches his back, clutching the Bull to him. The warrior releases the bite but immediately starts sucking on the same area and Dorian can only imagine the lovely mark that will have formed there by morning.

The Bull picks up the pace of his thrusting and reaches between their bodies to take hold of Dorian’s cock and the mage loses his thoughts to the pleasure moaning and writhing as he comes between them, Bull following not long after with a roar.

***

Dorian smiles into the mirror running his fingers over the bruise on his shoulder. It’s been a few days and the mark is faint but still visible on his skin. Bull comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around the mage’s waist.

“It’s almost gone,” he says. Dorian hums in agreement.

“Shame, did you see the look on Josephine’s face? I thought the poor girl was going to catch fire,” Dorian says chuckling. He leans back into the qunari meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I suppose you’ll just have to give me another.”

“Hmm, I could,” Bull says. “But it’d just fade again. I have another idea.” He runs his hands restlessly up and down Dorian’s sides as he speaks and when Dorian arches an eyebrow questioningly his eyes slide away from the mage’s.

Is the Bull… nervous?

“What?” Dorian asks. One of Bull’s hands leaves Dorian to slide into his pocket and emerges holding a long thin strip of leather, with a buckle on the end. It looks like a very small belt and Dorian spends an embarrassingly long moment wondering what such a thing could be used for before it hits him. His entire face goes red with the realization.

“Is that…?” he asks breathlessly.

“It’s a collar,” Bull tells him matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but I thought, maybe, since you liked the mark so much…,” his voice trails off and he shrugs. He’s trying to play like it doesn’t matter to him either way but his fingers are gripping the collar tight and he’s watching Dorian’s face intently. He wants this, and fuck but Dorian wants it too.

“Yes,” he says fervently. “Fuck, yes. Put it on me?”

Bull’s eye lights up and he smirks as he raises his other hand to take hold of the other end of the collar wrapping it around Dorian’s neck. The mage gives a full body shiver at the feel of it pressing it against his skin. Bull holds his eyes in the mirror as he tightens and buckles it before smoothing his hands over Dorian’s shoulders.

“Not too tight?” he asks.

“No,” Dorian says breathlessly. “It’s perfect.” The pressure around his throat is just enough to be noticeable without being constrictive, the leather resting against his skin comfortingly. It’s like a touch, like having Bull’s hand around his neck. He shivers and his breathing picks up a little.

“Fuck, Dorian, you look good,” Bull says fervently.

“I look owned,” the mage responds softly. He reaches up a hand and runs two fingers along the leather.

“Yeah,” Bull agrees. “You look mine.”

Dorian makes a soft sound at the words and shivers again. Bull slides his hand up to Dorian’s neck and strokes the collar before leaning down to kiss along the skin just under it.

“Yours,” Dorian whispers tasting the words on his tongue. Bull grunts.

“Say that again.”

“I’m yours,” Dorian says hoarsely.

“Kadan,” Bull starts but Dorian cuts him off.

“Yes, yes,” he says. Bull’s hands move to his pants and start pulling at the ties and Dorian turns his head awkwardly angling for a kiss. Bull claims his lips as he tugs his pants and smalls down far enough to reveal his ass. He takes a handful of pert flesh and squeezes, before breaking the kiss and planting a hand between Dorian’s shoulder blades pushing him forward. Dorian braces his elbows on the vanity automatically widening his stance and Bull hums approvingly.

He pushes a bit more firmly with his hand for a moment before letting go and stepping back entirely.

“Stay,” he says. Dorian nods and rests his forehead on his arms and waits. He can hear the qunari moving around the room and shuffling things around and has to resist the urge to demand to know what’s taking him so long. His cock is aching between his legs and the collar is a warm pressure around his throat.

His collar. 

His cock twitches at the thought and he muffles a moan into his wrist.

He’s lost track of Bull entirely and jumps when the qunari strokes a hand along his bare shoulder.

“You should see how you look right now, Kadan,” Bull says. The fingers of his free hand slide slick between Dorian’s cheeks and along his entrance and Dorian moans pressing back into the touch.

Bull leans forward over him to speak into his ear.

“Look up,” he says. Dorian raises his head and just as he meets his own eyes in the mirror the Bull slides the first finger into him. Dorian watches his own face as he reacts to the touch, his mouth falling open, lax and soft, brow furrowing, collar still a dark line on his neck, and back arching. He’s not sure if it’s the touch or his own reaction to it that draws the moan from him.

“ _Venhedis_ ,” he murmurs, eyes still fixed on his own expression. Bull chuckles.

“Now you know why I can’t take my eyes off you when you’re like this,” he says as he starts to thrust his finger in and out.

Dorian groans staring at the way his eyes go distant with pleasure. He pushes his hips back wanting more and Bull adds a second finger spreading and crooking them just right.

The sight is almost too much. The pleasure written across his face, the collar around his neck, Bull’s form looming behind him. Dorian shivers.

Bull pulls his fingers from Dorian’s body and the mage moans at the loss. He doesn’t have long to mourn, though, before the qunari shifts behind him and the blunt head of Bull’s cock presses against him.

Dorian lets out an eager noise and drops his head back down to rest on his arms.

“Oh, no. C’mon, Dorian, keep looking.”

Dorian groans and starts to raise his head again but he must not move fast enough because Bull takes hold of his collar and tugs gently pulling him up until he’s forced to meet his own eyes again.

“Kaffas,” the mage mutters when Bull doesn’t let go. He has no choice now but to stare at himself as the Bull slowly starts to press into him, moving his free hand to grasp Dorian’s hip.

“Fuck, yeah,” the Bull grunts once he’s seated. “You always feel so good, Kadan.”

“Bull, please. _Move_ ,” Dorian groans. The sight of himself strung out and begging, held immobile by his collar not doing anything to cool his desperation.

“Say it again,” Bull orders, still infuriatingly motionless.

“I’m yours,” Dorian tells him, then cries out as he’s rewarded by a hard thrust.

“Again.”

“I’m _yours_.”

The Bull groans deeply behind him and sets a powerful rhythm seemingly no longer interested in drawing this out.

Dorian is captivated, pinned between the pleasure of the Bull’s motions and the sight before his eyes. Every thrust draws a desperate moan from him and he wants nothing more than to reach down and take his aching cock in hand but if he does he’ll lose he’ll balance.

“Bull,” he groans. “Bull, please.” 

“Anything you want, Kadan,” Bull grits. “Everything you want.” He slides his hand from Dorian’s hip to wrap a hand around the mage’s aching length, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

“I’m yours,” Dorian whispers hoarsly, the words leaving his lips unbidden, unprompted but oh Maker he means them. It draws a groan from the Bull behind him and Dorian can’t help but repeat them, his voice rising from a murmur to a shout. “I’m yours. Bull, _I’m yours!_ ”

“Fuck, Dorian,” Bull groans and the next thrust is so hard it shakes the vanity sending Dorian’s jar of gold shimmer powder crashing to the ground with a sound of broken glass. At the same time Bull Squeezes his hand around Dorian’s cock, pressing his thumb against the head and Dorian meets his own eyes helplessly as he careens over the edge.

His expression contorts in ecstasy and his mouth falls open on a ragged cry as he spills over his lover’s hand. The Bull releases Dorian’s collar in favor of clutching his hip as he chases his own orgasm. Dorian lets his head fall to his arms groaning as the last warm pulses of pleasure fade away leaving behind sharp fizzling aftershocks in their wake. They rush through him with every motion of the Bull’s hips leaving him shaky and oversensitive.

“Bull,” Dorian whispers reaching back with a trembling fingers to brush against the Bull’s own where they clutch at his hip. The qunari lets out a muffled noise of pleasure. Biting his lip, Dorian thinks, like he always does he when he’s close.

He takes the Bull’s hand in his pulling it up until it rests against the back of his neck right over the collar.

“Shit,” Bull mutters fervently. “ _Oh!_ ”

The qunari gives a loud bellow and shoves home into Dorian one last time as he comes. Dorian sighs at the feeling, satisfied and sated.

The two of them stay that way for a while, panting and recovering themselves before the Bull straightens up and pulls out. Dorian makes an unhappy noise at the sudden feeling of emptiness which becomes an indignant squawk as the Bull lifts him bodily into his arms.

“I can walk you know,” he mumbles into the lummox’s shoulder, but doesn’t try to escape the embrace and let’s Bull carry him over to the bed. He does kick his pants the rest of the way off his legs though. Bothersome things.

Bull doesn’t say anything in response, just chuckles a little as he sets Dorian down gently on the mattress, lying next to him and pulling the covers over them both. Dorian takes his usual place, pressed against the other man’s side head resting on his shoulder.

The Bull’s arm comes around him and, perhaps predictably, his fingers come up to toy with the collar. Dorian hums happily and snuggles closer.

“Mine,” Bull murmurs it quietly and Dorian thinks there might be a touch of awe in his voice. He smiles.

“Yours.”

A moment later Dorian peeks one eye open giving the Bull a disgruntled stare.

“You owe me a new jar of shimmer powder,” he says simply. Bull laughs and rubs his fingers back and forth on Dorian’s shoulder.

“Whatever you want, Kadan.”


	4. Krem?Dorian: 189: Human Furniture; 225: Master and Slave; 229: Military fetishization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Krem-de-le-Creme who asked for "KremDorian 189 paired with 225 and 229"
> 
> 189\. Human furniture
> 
> 225\. Master and slave (erotic or romantic slavery, or otherwise; see Power issues)
> 
> 229\. Military fetishization (competence; guns, knives, and other weapons; uniforms, dog-tags, thigh-holsters, etc; authority; soldiers and rebels; paramilitary figures such as cops; brothers in arms as a romantic concept)

Dorian can feel the weight on his back shift as Krem picks up one of the pieces of leather armor resting there. He hears the sound of a cloth being dipped in oil and shivers as a few drops land on his bare skin. The jar shifts dangerously and Krem runs a hand down his side.

“Shhh,” he whispers soothingly. “Hold still, now. Don’t let it spill.”

Dorian swallows thickly and shifts as carefully as possible on his hands and knees. He doesn’t know for certain how long they’ve been like this, Dorian on his hands and knees in front of Krem’s chair as the man oils his armor, but it’s been long enough that his knees are beginning to ache, to say nothing of his cock, hanging heavy and hard between his legs. He settles and holds as still as he can. Tables don’t move.

He tries to tell by the shape and feel of the leather on his back which pieces are left. The largest one is probably the vest. He thinks there’s still the other glove and maybe the vambraces as well. The soft sounds of the cloth moving over leather reach his ears and he suppresses the moan that aches to leave his throat. Tables don’t make noise.

The cloth is dipped in the oil again and more drops fall to add to the pools on the small of his back. The extra liquid is too much for one of them and its surface tension breaks sending a line of oil sliding along Dorian’s skin, between the cheeks of his ass and down over his balls before dripping to the floor with a quiet wet patter. 

His cock twitches and his breathing picks up a bit. The skin of his throat presses against his collar with every shaky inhale, the comforting weight of the band there the only thing that keeps him from whining or canting his hips and sending oil and armor crashing to the floor. Krem makes a satisfied noise above him and it could be for Dorian’s self-control or just as easily for the freshly oiled gleam of the glove in his hand. Dorian isn’t sure which idea makes him want to squirm more.

He takes a few deep steadying breaths getting his breathing back under control. The vest is lifted from Dorian’s back and the mage suppresses a shudder at the cool air that rushes to take the place of its weight on his skin. More oil drips from the newly moistened cloth and finds the puddles on Dorian’s back. This time when the small pool overflows the slick liquid slides a long slow journey down the skin of his inner thigh. Dorian presses his eyes shut tighter and forces himself to stay still and quiet. The droplet loses its momentum halfway between Dorian’s hips and his knee and hovers there, a teasing ghost of a touch on sensitive skin. He longs to twitch the muscles of his leg, make it slide down further, but if he does he’ll shift the jar resting on the small of his back. He keeps his eyes shut tight until the urge to moan or move his leg or drop to his elbows, anything, passes.

Tables are still, and silent.

He whines in his mind and waits for Krem to give him permission to be a man again.


End file.
